DESPITE THE SLAVE CONTRACT, I wasn’t planning to keep these events a secret and deal with the traitor on my own. Armet was dangerous, given his inclinations and skill… So, after conducting the initial interrogation and imposing a number of restrictions using the slave card, I handed him over without the slightest hesitation. As a result, the traitor was transferred to a separate cell, under constant video surveillance and a restricted visiting regime. His chances of escaping were now zero.
“You’re just in time,” Ilyin nodded. “Have a read of this.”
But it didn’t mean he didn’t try. I ran my eyes over the report.
I, Artem Nikolaevich Kotlovanov, was recruited by God to carry out a vital mission...
In the old days, a statement like this would be reason enough to undergo a psychological assessment, but now, we didn’t even bat an eye. Armet then complained that he hadn’t had enough time to report the incident since his return, due to the injuries he’d sustained, but he’d planned to do it a little later. In other words, he tried to pass off his betrayal as a military ruse. Which could help him in the future. After all, every person was presumed innocent until proven guilty, and this piece of paper was enough to challenge any charges.
“What do you think?” the lieutenant colonel asked. “He’s a quick little bugger, isn’t he?”
“Smart, but foolish,” I replied, returning the sheet of paper to him. Ilyin placed it in the shredder, and the device buzzed, turning the paper into ribbons. “Did you really think this would work?”
“It would have been stupid not to try,” Armet grimaced.
“All right, let’s get down to business,” Ilyin cut him off. “I’m informing you that the conversation is being recorded. Are you aware of the features of the slave card and voluntarily agree to these being used during the interrogation?”
“I don’t seem to have a choice,” Armet replied, but then corrected himself, “Yes, I agree.”
“For the next hour, you must tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. You also cannot remain silent in response to a question. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the interrogee nodded. “How does it work?”
I shrugged. The card’s power wasn’t absolute, and the slave could resist orders, so the more vague they were, the easier it was to circumvent them. Oh well, these were only temporary measures.
“We need to perform a calibration. You can try lying to check how it works.”
I had set the standard punishment: increasing pain, which would make a person either obey or return to the card. However, I wasn’t sure how it would work if the person was lying.
“Is your name Artem Nikolaevich Kotlovanov? Born in 1974?”
Armet was silent for about ten seconds, testing the limits of what was allowed, and then hurriedly answered. “Yes, that’s right. To both questions.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“I’d love to tell you both to piss off.” He grimaced, looking like he wanted to use a much stronger word. “Off the record, of course, and with all due respect…”
“The reaction of the interrogee is as expected. Let us continue. What is the name of the god you serve?”
“The Great Izur.”
“Is the epithet “Great” a part of his name or did you add it yourself?”
“The former, as far as I can tell.”
I nodded. This was the third “Great” god I knew of. The previous ones were Seth and Y. I wasn’t sure what conclusion to draw from this.
“How voluntary was your cooperation?”
This question was helpful, so the former politician answered it with obvious pleasure. “I was forced into it under threat of death.”
“What is your assignment?”
“To advance to a senior position in the department, gather information, and wait for someone to contact me.”
It sounded a little dubious — players rarely lived for long, so there was no point in recruiting him for a long-term plan. I checked his aura, but didn’t find any parasites. However, if there had been any, they probably ran away from the failed agent…
“Do the enemies know about our department?”
“Yes, I told them about it.”
“What information were they interested in?”
“Anything I would consider useful. Gods, the strongest players, our defense system, strategic objects... They were also interested in technologies that could be adapted to low-level civilizations. We also discussed the possibility of transporting certain goods, but nothing specific.”
This was quite important information. Perhaps Earth had something of interest to our neighbors, in addition to the experience contained in us. Hell, could we even outbid one of our opponents? But this was above my pay grade.
“Is that all?”
“I wasn’t asked to kill the president, arrange mass murders or anything like that. I cooperated because I wanted to live, but I didn’t betray humanity. There are limits to what I’m willing to do.” Armet grimaced again. “There are always limits. The Great Izur wants to negotiate, he has no plans to destroy our planet.”
He spoke the last sentence with a kind of unnatural confidence. It suddenly occurred to me that if an ordinary player possessed the ability to influence other people, then what about the gods? Shiva hadn’t used anything like this at our meeting, but this could be because he didn’t want to annoy my hypothetical patron. I added mental shielding to the list of what I need for the upcoming negotiations. And not only that... Marcus’ skill, which allowed him to jump back in time, would be incredibly useful. The ability to instantly commit suicide too.
“What else were you supposed to do?”
“I... I was to recruit allies. Not only players, but everyday people as well. Izur can bestow youth, health and safety on them. The System won’t turn them into players, and allied monsters won’t touch people bearing his mark…”
I shook my head. Little was known about what the gods could do, but I certainly had some questions. For example, why they didn’t pour System energy into their followers? Maybe not all of us, but at least into the priests? Why didn’t they endow us with powerful skills? Why was I, a loner, still officially considered the strongest player on our world? It must not be possible, for some reason. Perhaps they simply had too few SP and preferred to spend them on themselves. How would gods replenish their SP, anyway? I doubted they personally hacked at the monsters with System weapons.
“Do you believe his words yourself? That he would waste his powers on ordinary people?”
“Only on those who are useful to him.”
“How exactly are you supposed to recruit people?”
“Like this...”
Attention! Would you like to become a follower of the Great Izur?
No/Yes
This wasn’t the right thing to ask. I declined, wrinkling my nose. The thought flashed in my mind to minimize the window, and see how long this offer would remain.
Attention! Reputation with the Great Izur has decreased!
“Why, you little...” the lieutenant colonel burst out, but then abruptly calmed down. “An influence attempt has been registered. The suspect used System methods to offer us to switch sides. What is the radius of this ability?”
“I need to be able to see the target.”
“For the record. The threat level is considered to be low, but I recommend checking all department employees in the immediate vicinity.”
First of all, this concerned the lieutenant colonel himself. Curse this man… Although Armet had harmed me with his actions, the restrictions hadn’t worked. This meant that they were tied to the slave’s mind and became active only if he was aware of his guilt.
“Hmm, it seems that limited restrictions aren’t enough. I forbid you to use any System abilities without my permission…”
“Understood,” Armet nodded.
“You do understand that we might have problems now?”
“You weren’t in any danger. You have a patron, right?” My words seemed to cause him doubts, and he grimaced, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t w... look, I’m sorry, okay?”
Judging by the way he broke off, he actually had “wanted” to. But what was the point of this provocation? Instigate hatred towards him? Or... I touched the card, dismissing the punishment and allowing him to recover.
“Thanks.”
“Are you under any restrictions besides mine?”
“I can’t answer that question.”
“Did you give away your phylactery?”
The transfer of the altar fragment wasn’t automatic, but it usually followed the acceptance of patronage, once the new adept no longer had a choice.
“It was a key condition. One of the monsters dropped a card, which allowed me to create a new gate in my personal room. It led to Izur’s domain.”
“What did it look like?”
“Like a sultan’s palace. You know, like in One Thousand and One Nights. Gold, drapery, statues, fountains, houris. It was paradise... at first glance.”
Well, yes, to enjoy paradise, someone else must serve you. The hundreds of so-called houris pleasuring the hero were unlikely to be happy about it. And the owner of the harem would quickly realize that happiness wasn’t just about sex. Balance was the key to everything.
“What does Izur look like?”
“I don’t know. The Divine Emperor was too busy to waste his time on me, so I was welcomed by his third concubine. The beautiful Jade...” The politician’s face took on a dreamy expression, and he looked close to drooling. His reaction seemed unnatural, especially at his age. I wonder what this so-called emperor would have done if he’d noticed such seditious thoughts? Did he have a special hell for naughty followers? Was the “beautiful Jade” getting rather bored in his harem?
“Were you promised a place there?”
“No. A mortal must do something truly incredible to be invited in, or be a beautiful houri. But I was promised that if my service was sufficient, I would get my youth back.”
“Is that all?”
“I don’t recall any of our gods promising such a thing.”
“Okay, that’s it for now,” Ilyin sighed. “Here’s a notebook and a pen. Write down everything you know, in as much detail as possible.”
“The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” I added. “Got it?”
“Just don’t ask me what I think about all this, okay?”
* * *
“What a slippery fellow. How was he thrown out of the lower house?”
“The dumbass wasn’t re-elected,” the lieutenant colonel shrugged. “That’s what happens in a democracy.”
Yet he probably still had connections, so he could cause a lot of problems as a foreign agent. How many others like him were wandering around our planet? How many people would they conscript? Problems were appearing one after another, faster than we could solve them.
“As soon as he finishes his report, put him in the card,” Ilyin sighed.
“Alright.”
“Then give me the card. We’ll put it in the safe for now.”
“No one will be able to use it except me.”
“Even better. Let’s not give others a reason for suspicion. There is no slavery in our country.”
“Got it,” I agreed. “We need to pass on information about the traitors to our allies.”
Any intelligence service was keen to disclose as little as possible classified information, but silence would be too costly this time.
“Yes, as soon as possible.”
In the end, the traitor turned out to be an “emptie” in many ways. He provided some information, but nothing really important. I didn’t like it. It felt like our enemies, having failed to swoop in, had settled in to play the long game…
* * *
If my unique position as a healer had served me well at the start, I was no longer sure that this was the case. I was spending too much time with patients, and I was booked out a year in advance. It would be nice to share this burden.
I was sitting in the lotus position, staring at the rank E emptie in front of me. The higher the skill level, the lower the chances of success, and failure could destroy the card.
Would you like to record a skill on this training card (E)?
Would you like to copy the Great Healing skill?
Yes/No
Well, I couldn’t put it off forever. I established a connection, and could instinctively feel what needed to be done. The tentacle dug around in my brain, but I had to help it by passing on everything I knew about the skill and making as few mistakes as possible. This wasn’t easy.
The skill has been recorded! Match percentage is 93%.
Success... although the result was rather weak, I felt as if I had used my head to punch through a wall. Now to decide which ally would receive this gift, and under what conditions — I wasn’t going to give away a unique skill just like that.
* * *
I never liked airports. The crowds, the rush, the planes overhead, turnstiles, metal detectors, and jacked-up prices for everything.
S8 Airlines flight number 141112 has landed at Domodedovo Airport!
“I think that’s our flight,” Oleg spoke, clutching the sign. “Astana — Moscow.”
“Don’t rush. It’ll be ages before he gets here...”
If there were any losers among the gods, I suspected the first place would go to Inti. First, I’d killed his priest and took his divine weapon, and now his strongest followers were dying like flies. Take the Mexican… or the recently resurrected Spider.
He might not have died since he’d been on a plane over the Atlantic when the mission was announced, but only his clothes had arrived at the destination. They was taken away by the embassy employee accompanying him.
I had been collecting information about the gods for a while, and although it was scarce, there were indications that Quel and Inti actively disliked each other. Primarily because both had claimed control over North America, but the Aztec god had ultimately gained the upper hand in this dispute. This made sense geographically… Plus, Jack’s death had played a role.
On the other hand, how were the gods planning to share control over the planet? Judging by the upcoming creation of the pantheon, they were unlikely to cut our world into pieces, and not let each other into their territory. Most likely, people would have a choice, but a particular god would have greater influence in a particular region. They were interested in the strongest countries first of all, and Russia would be one of them.
Take the temples, for example. I doubted that a god would declare some random place as their temple, so they must have undertaken some preparation and planning. After all, it wasn’t enough to choose an approximate location on the map, one needed to find a suitable site that met a number of requirements. A high-rise apartment wouldn’t work, the main temple required plenty of space, or at least space to expand. For the hypothetical pilgrims, for example. On the other hand, the place had to not arouse suspicion or attract unwanted attention at the early stage. One would want to purchase the property and the land, so that there were no problems later.
This was probably the job of the priests, with the help of lower-ranking followers. So, armed with this knowledge, I could make certain assumptions about the location of the temples. Diva had spent a lot of time in Paris, so Hera had probably decided to settle in France. I thought it was a strange decision, but I could be wrong... Inti’s temple was most likely in Brazil. Guan Yu would obviously settle in China. The only question was whether the temple was on the mainland or in Hong Kong, where I would be going in the near future. Shiva was almost certainly in India, and Quel somewhere in the USA. Chicago, Washington, New York... I was guessing here. Seth was either in Africa — Cairo, for example — or in Saudi Arabia. There was a reason why Sulu had joined forces with Saud. This left Odin, whose priest was Alexander. Logically, he would have chosen Germany or one of the Nordic countries, yet, he might have just as easily selected Moscow or St. Petersburg.
The gods had repeatedly made contact with various governments through the players, but I wasn’t in the loop.
“Here come the passengers...” Oleg raised the sign above his head, and the one we were waiting soon peeled away from the crowd.
“I’m happy to see you, brother,” Ilyas said once he came up to us.
I stepped forward, hugging one of the first members of my team. In the time I hadn’t seen him, Legolas had reached the fifth level, becoming a solid veteran. Plus, he possessed a pretty decent ability.
“Me too. I’m glad you accepted my offer.”
“How could I say no? You said we’d have a chance to level up dramatically.”
I scanned him using Identification to ensure that the Kazakh man hadn’t acquired Faith since we last spoke. I didn’t have a fourth slave card, and I wasn’t sure I could free up one of the old ones. Although there was nothing in the description, the raven claimed that the cards could only be used once and would ‘fade’ when the slave was released.
“Patience, you’ll find out everything later. This is Oleg, my trusty assistant, and this is Ilyas, an old acquaintance.”
The upcoming raid to the Dungeon had led me to invite a number of old friends, but only a few had agreed in the end.
“Are the rest of us coming too? How’s Lisa?”
“We broke up,” I snorted. “As for the others, Alf is due to arrive tomorrow — their group broke up after the recent events. Cuchulainn would have come, but he died. Sahel indicated that he would join us, but it’s not set in stone. The others are busy with their own affairs.”
Oddly enough, nearly everyone from my first team were alive and, for the most part, in the EU Superhero Group. We even wrote to each other from time to time, sharing our news... except for Lisa, who seemed to be mad at me. But I still heard all sort of rumors about her.
“Yes, many people have died. I myself have lost worthy comrades.”
I nodded, but didn’t pry. The number of players depended on the population, and although Kazakhstan was a big country, it had few players. Most of them had ended up in the president’s security service. Elite bodyguards to demonstrate the might of the head of state. It was an enviable position, since the “batyrs” were showered with money, yet they hadn’t devoted enough time to training. Several had died during ordinary missions, and Ilyas was the only one to return from the Outer Battlefield. He had also gained a few kilos since we last met...
With all that had happened, preparations for the expedition sped up sharply. The Dungeon gave us a chance to grow significantly stronger, so the faster we got there, the fewer losses we would suffer. The regular troops could repel isolated incursions even without us, but they wouldn’t have to, since some players was bound to be drawn to a mission. Otherwise, the System would initiate newcomers. In a sense, removing some veterans for a while could even come in useful.
Therefore, we planned to depart immediately after returning from Hong Kong.
* * *
Few people like cemeteries. They make people think about the inevitability of death. Every time you visit a grave, you cannot help but think about who will be next. Often, the thought of ending up here yourself is much less frightening than the loss of your loved ones. Most people learn to dismiss the gloomy thoughts, while others discuss how they would like their funeral to proceed and how little time they have left, as they grow older. Such talk is driven by fear and a desire to forget. By repeating the same thing over and over, they almost convince themselves that it will never happen to them.
The squad lost eleven members in the recent mission. Nine dead and two missing. The bodies of three people — Blacksmith, Orpheus and Irene — would be sent back home, as requested by their relatives, but the others would be buried at the Novodevichy Cemetery. A little neglected after the collapse of the USSR, it was still considered quite prestigious. A plot here cost half a million rubles, but was provided free of charge for services to the country.
Seven coffins, one of which was empty, draped with the national flag. The death of the formerly homeless man had been confirmed by witnesses, and a decision was made to formally bury him. For a person who had lost everything, it was important to preserve his memory. I was sure that even if he returned, he wouldn’t be offended… Although the gods weren’t overly generous with resurrections.
The government planned to erect a pretentious monument here, to the superheroes of the Russian Federation, who had fallen in defense of our world. The project was under discussion, but it wouldn’t be a quick thing. Perhaps the fallen would even be added to the Heroes of Russia list. The dead could not disappoint, and their deaths had been noble.
“When we say goodbye to the dead today, we know that they will stay with us forever. That they remain in our ranks and continue to serve. They continue to serve Russia!”
Lieutenant Colonel Ilyin left the podium as the audience applauded. It was a large audience, and there were plenty of cameras, so nearly all the department’s superheroes were wearing masks. Even I, even though my identity was no longer a secret.
“It’s your turn, O my lord,” Eva elbowed me slightly. Her wounds had healed, but she refused to be released. Being bound to the card ensured her safety, and I didn’t restrict her freedom, even though, unlike Nata, she hadn’t taken the card from me. Meanwhile, the stress resulted in such inappropriate role-playing for this situation…
* * *
“A word from the Special Department Commander and Hero of the Russian Federation, Captain Ivanov.”
The fake surname was jarring, but I kept my face impassive. I came forward and stood before the coffins, looking over the large crowd. Most of them hadn’t known the dead and had come here to “pay their respects to the heroes.” Or, if we dispensed with the grandstanding and hypocrisy, to watch the entertainment. They wanted to see the “real superheroes”. Some even had the audacity to ask for autographs.
I had never liked public speaking, but anger made me bold. I had a speech prepared by the specialists, full of sympathetic and carefully selected, but meaningless, words. To hell with it.
“They died defending our world! They died defending our country! They died defending their loved ones! We will remember them and take care of their families. I know many of you are here today. I want you to know that as long as I’m alive, you can always turn to me for help. Today, in a month or in ten years. I swear!”
I didn’t know if it was a good or bad speech, I’d never been good at rhetoric, but I said what I thought. If it sounded like nonsense, at least it came from the heart.
“I became a player only four months ago, and most of those who started with me are no longer alive.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “Players rarely live long, but I’m not giving up. Here, beside the graves of the fallen, I swear to you that I will not die! No matter how many enemies come out against me, no matter how many missions I have to go through, I will return. And I hope that you will come back too! No matter what!”
“I’ll come back!”
“I’ll come back too! I won’t die out there!”
My spontaneous speech unexpectedly drew a response from my comrades, with many supporting my words and…
Ding...
I swayed before I had even realized what was happening, but my reflexes didn’t let me down. Overclocking… The world slowed down, allowing me to assess the situation. What was going on? The Kinetic Shield went into active mode, noticeably draining my mana reserves. I was under attack.
Ding...
I dropped to the ground, the feeling of danger crawling over my skin. I was being shot at. I’d become a target for a bloody sniper. Without wasting a second, I dove into the nearest cover, which turned out to be one of the freshly dug graves.
“Shots fired! It’s a sniper!”
Oh the irony, to swear to live forever and almost get a bullet between the eyes. I hoped my enemies didn’t have a grenade launcher.
“Bri, Legion, find him! I want him alive!” The raven croaked in response.
I pressed myself into the bottom of the grave, popping a crystal into my mouth and listening intently. I didn’t really need to do anything else. The attempt had failed. Security personnel were shouting above me, trying to establish where the shots had come from. The cemetery wasn’t a city, there weren’t many places for a sniper to hide.
“Are you alive?” Ilyin shouted from the next grave over, if I wasn’t mistaken.
“Yes, I’m fine. How are the others?”
Our enemy had apparently decided not to stop and was now shooting into the crowd. Or the people had simply panicked.
“Sit tight and keep your head down! Find that bastard! Cover all exits!”
Attention! A local quest is available! (F)
Slots: 0/10
Attention! You are in the local quest zone!
Leave the zone or hold out until reinforcements arrive!
Time remaining: 3 hours.
Great. Apparently, the option of “keeping my head down” was no longer available.